The Complete Angler. Part I.
(Continued.)

Izaak Walton

Venator. My friend
Piscator,
you have kept time with my thoughts; for the sun is just rising, and I
myself just now come to this place, and the dogs have just now put down
an otter. Look! down at the bottom of the hill there, in that meadow,
chequered
with water-lilies and lady-smocks; there you may see what work they
make;
look! look! you may see all busy; men and dogs: dogs and men; all busy.

Pisc. Sir, I am right
glad
to meet you; and glad to have so fair an entrance into this day's
sport;
and glad to see so many dogs, and more men, all in pursuit of the
otter.
Let us compliment no longer, but join unto them. Come, honest Venator!
let us be gone, let us make haste; I long to be doing; no reasonable
hedge
or ditch shall hold me.

Ven. Gentleman
huntsman, where
found you this otter?

Hunt. Marry, sir, we
found
her a mile from this place a-fishing. She has this morning eaten the
greatest
part of this trout; she has only left this much of it as you see, and
was
fishing for more; when we came we found her just at it: but we were
here
very early, we were here an hour before sun-rise, and have given her no
rest since we came; sure she will hardly escape all these dogs and men.
I am to have the skin if we kill her.

Ven. Why, sir, what is
the
skin worth?

Hunt. It is worth ten
shillings,
to make gloves; the gloves of an otter are the best fortification for
your
hands that can be thought on against wet weather.

Pisc. I pray, honest
huntsman,
let me ask you a pleasant question; do you hunt a beast or a fish?

Hunt. Sir, it is not
in my
power to resolve you; I leave it to be resolved by the college of
Carthusians,
who have made vows never to eat flesh. But I have heard, the question
hath
been debated among many great clerks: and they seem to differ about it:
yet most agree that her tail is fish. And if her body be fish too, then
I may say that a fish will walk upon land; for an otter does so,
sometimes
five or six, or ten miles in a night, to catch, for her young ones, or
to glut herself with fish. And I can tell you that pigeons will fly
forty
miles for a breakfast. But, sir, I am sure the otter devours much fish;
and kills and spoils much more than he eats. And I can tell you, that
this
dog-fisher, for so the Latins call him, can smell a fish in the water
an
hundred yards from him: Gesner says much further---and that his stones
are good against the falling sickness; and that there is an herb,
benione,
which, being hung in a linen-cloth, near a fish-pond, or any haunt that
he uses, makes him to avoid the place; which proves he smells both by
water
and land. And I can tell you, there is brave hunting this
water-dog
in Cornwall: where there have been so many, that our learned Camden
says,
there is a river called Ottersey, which was so named, by reason of the
abundance of otters that bred and fed in it. And thus much
for my knowledge of the otter: which you may now see above water at
vent,
and the dogs close with him; I now see he will not last long. Follow,
therefore,
my masters, follow; for Sweetlips was like to have him at this last
vent.

Ven. Oh me; all the
horse
are got over the river; what shall we do now? shall we follow them over
the water?

Hunt. No, sir, no: be
not
so eager; stay a little, and follow me: for both they and the dogs will
be suddenly on this side again, I warrant you, and the otter too, it
may
be. Now have at him with Killbuck, for he vents again.

Ven. Marry! so he
does, for,
look! he vents in that corner. Now, now, Ringwood has him: now, he is
gone
again; and has bit the poor dog. Now, Sweetlips has her; hold her,
Sweetlips!
now all the dogs have her; some above and some under water: but, now,
now,
she is tired, and past losing. Come bring her to me, Sweetlips. Look!
it
is a bitch-otter, and she has lately whelped. Let's go to the place
where
she was put down; and, not far from it, you will find all her young
ones,
I dare warrant you, and kill them all too.

Hunt. Come, gentlemen!
come
all! let's go to the place where we put down the otter. Look you!
hereabout
it was that she kenneled; look you! here it was indeed; for here are
her
young ones, no less than five; come, let us kill them all.

Pisc. No: I pray, sir,
save
me one; and I'll try if I can make her tame, as I know an ingenious
gentleman
in Leicestershire, Mr. Nich. Seagrave, has done; who hath not only made
her tame, but to catch fish, and do many other things of much pleasure.

Hunt. Take one, with
all my
heart; but let us kill the rest. And now let's go to an honest
ale-house,
where we may have a cup of good barley wine and sing Old Rose, and all
of us rejoice together.

Ven. Come, my friend
Piscator,
let me invite you along with us. I'll bear your charges this night; and
you shall bear mine to-morrow---for my intention is to accompany you a
day or two in fishing.

Pisc. Sir, your
request is
granted; and I shall be right glad, both to exchange such a courtesy,
and
also to enjoy your company.

THE THIRD DAY.

CHAPTER II.

(Continued.)

______

Ven. Well, now let's
go to
your sport of angling.

Pisc. Let's be going
with
all my heart. God keep you all, gentlemen; and send you meet, this day,
with another bitch-otter, and kill her merrily, and all her young ones
too.

Ven. Now, Piscator,
where
will you begin to fish?

Pisc. We are not yet
come
to a likely place; I must walk a mile further yet before I begin.

Ven. Well, then, I
pray, as
we walk, tell me freely, how do you like your lodging, and mine host
and
the company. Is not mine host a witty man?

Pisc. Sir, I will tell
you,
presently, what I think of your host: but, first, I will tell you, I am
glad these otters were killed; and I am sorry there are no more
otter-killers;
for I know that the want of otter-killers, and the not keeping the
fence-months
for the preservation of fish, will, in time, prove the destruction of
all
rivers. And those very few that are left, that make conscience of the
laws
of the nation, and of keeping days of abstinence, will be forced to eat
flesh, or suffer more inconveniences than are yet foreseen.

Ven. Why, sir, what be
those
that you call the fence-months?

Pisc. Sir, they be
pricipally
three, namely, March, April and May; for these be the usual months that
salmon come out of the sea, to spawn in most fresh rivers. And their
fry
would, about a certain time, return back to the salt-water, if they
were
not hindered by wires and unlawful gins, which the greedy fishermen
set;
and so destroy them by thousands, as they (the fry) would, being so
taught
by nature, change the fresh for salt water. He that shall view the wise
statutes made in the 13th of Edward I., and the like in Richard II.,
may
see several provisions made against the destruction of fish: and though
I profess no knowledge of the law, yet I am sure the regulation of
these
defects might be easily mended. But I remember that a wise friend of
mine
did usually say, "That which is every body's business is no body's
business:"
---if it were otherwise, there could not be so many nets, and fish,
that
are under the statute-size, sold daily amongst us; and of which the
conservators
of the waters should be ashamed. But, above
all,
the taking fish in spawning-time, may be said to be against nature; it
is like taking the dam on the nest when she hatches her young---a sin
so
against nature, that Almighty God hath in the Levitical law made a law
against it. But the poor
fish have enemies enough besides such unnatural fishermen; as, namely,
the otters that I spake of, the cormorant, the bittern, the osprey, the
seagull, the hern, the king-fisher, the gorara, the puet, the swan,
goose,
duck, and the crabber, which some call the Water-rat: against all which
any honest man may make a just quarrel---but I will not; I will leave
them
to be quarrelled with and killed by others: for I am not of a cruel
nature,
I love to kill nothing but fish. And, now, to
your question concerning your host: To speak truly, he is not to me a
good
companion; for most of his conceits were either scripture jests---or,
lascivious
jests---for which I count no man witty; for the devil will help a man
that
way inclined, to the first; and his own corrupt nature, which he always
carries with him, to the latter. But a companion that feasts the
company
with wit and mirth, and leaves out the sin which is usually mixed with
them, he is the man; and indeed such a companion should have his
charges
borne; and to such company I hope to bring you this night; for at
Trout-hall,
not far from this place, where I purpose to lodge to-night, there is
usually
an angler that proves good company. And, let me tell you, good company
and good discourse are the very sinews of virtue. But for such
discourse
as we heard last night, it infects others; the very boys will learn to
talk and swear, as they heard mine host, and another of the company
that
shall be nameless:---I am sorry the other is a gentleman; for less
religion
will not save their souls than a beggar's: I think more will be
required
at the last great day. Well! you know what example is able to do; and I
know what the poet says in like case---which is worthy to be noted by
all
parents and people of civility:---

-------------many
a one Owes to his
country
his RELIGION; And in ANOTHER,
would as strongly grow, Had but his
nurse
or mother taught him so.

This is
the reason
put in verse, and worthy the consideration of a wise man. But of this
no
more; fro though I love civility, yet I hate censures. I'll to my own
art;
and I doubt not but at yonder tree I shall catch a chub: and then we'll
turn to an honest cleanly hostess, that I know right well; rest
ourselves
there; and dress it for our dinner.

Ven. Oh, sir! a chub
is the
worst fish that swims; I hoped for a trout to my dinner.

Pisc. Trust me, sir,
there
is not a likely place for a trout hereabout: and we staid so long to
take
our leave of your huntsman this morning, that the sun is got so high,
and
shines so clear, that I will not undertake the catching of a trout till
evening. And though a chub be, by you and many others, reckoned the
worst
of fish, yet you shall see I'll make it a good fish by dressing it.

Ven. Why, how will you
dress
him?

Pisc. I'll tell you by
and
by, when I have caught him. Look you here, sir, do you see? (but you
must
stand very close), there lie upon the top of the water, in this very
hole,
twenty chubs. I'll catch only one, and that shall be the biggest of
them
all: and that I will do so, I'll hold you twenty to one: and you shall
see it done.

Ven. Ay, marry, sir,
now you
talk like an artist; and I'll say you are one, when I shall see you
perform
what you say you can do: but I yet doubt it.

Pisc. You shall not
doubt
it long; for you shall see me do it presently. Look! the biggest of
these
chubs has had some bruise upon his tail, by a pike, or some other
accident;
and that looks like a white spot. That very chub I mean to put into
your
hands presently; sit you but down in the shade; and stay but a little
while;
and, I'll warrant you, I'll bring him to you.

Ven. I'll sit down;
and hope
well, because you seem to be so confident.

Pisc. Look you, sir,
there
is a trial of my skill; there he is; that very chub, that I showed you,
with a white spot on his tail. And I'll be as certain, to make him a
good
dish of meat, as I was to catch him; I'll now lead you to an honest
ale-house,
where we shall find a cleanly room, lavender in the windows, and twenty
ballads stuck against the wall. There my hostess---Which, I may tell
you,
is both cleanly, and handsome, and civil---hath dressed many a one for
me; and shall now dress it after my fashion; and I warrant it good meat.

Ven. Come, sir, with
all my
heart; for I begin to be hungry and long to be at it, and indeed to
rest
myself too,---for though I have walked but four miles this morning, yet
I begin to be weary,---yesterday's hunting hangs still upon me.

Pisc. Well, sir, and
you shall
quickly be at rest, for yonder is the house I mean to bring you to. Come,
hostess!
how do you do? Will you first give us a cup of your best drink; and
then
dress this chub, as you dressed my last, when I and my friend were here
about eight or ten days ago? But you must do me one courtesy; it must
be
done instantly.

Host. I will do it,
Mr. Piscator,
and with all the speed I can.

Pisc. Now, sir, has
not my
hostess made haste? and does not the fish look lovely?

Ven. Trust me, 'tis as
good
meat as I ever tasted. Now let me thank you for it; drink to you; and
beg
a courtesy of you,---but it must not be denied me.

Pisc. What is it, I
pray,
sir? You are so modest, that methinks I may promise it, before it is
asked.

Ven. Why, sir, it is,
that
from henceforth you will allow me to call you master, and that really I
may be your scholar; for you are such a companion, and have so quickly
caught, and so excellently cooked this fish, as makes me ambitious to
be
your scholar.

Pisc. Give me your
hand. From
this time forward I will be your master, and teach you as much of this
art as I am able; and will, as you desire me, tell you somewhat of the
nature of most of the fish that we are to angle for, and I am sure I
both
can and will tell you, more than any common angler yet knows.

THE THIRD DAY.

(Continued.)

CHAPTER
III.

HOW TO FISH
FOR, AND
TO DRESS THE CHAVENDER, OR CHUB.

______

Piscator. The chub,
though
he eat well, thus dressed; yet as he is usually dressed, he does not.
He
is objected against, not only for being full of small forked bones,
dispersed
all through his body, but that he eats waterish, and that the flesh of
him is not firm, but short and tasteless. The French esteem him so
mean,
as to call him un villain. Nevertheless, he may be so dressed, as to
make
him very good meat, as namely, if he be a large chub, then dress him
thus:--- First, scale
him; and then wash him clean; and then take out his guts,---and to that
end make the hole as little, and near to his gills, as you may
conveniently.
And, especially, make clean his throat from the grass and weeds that
are
usually in it; for if that be not very clean, it will make him taste
very
sour. Having so done, put some sweet herbs into his belly; and then tie
him with two or three splinters to a spit; and roast him, basted often
with vinegar, or rather verjuice and butter, and with good store of
salt
mixed with it. Being thus
dressed,
you will find him a much better dish of meat than you, or most folk,
even
than anglers themselves do imagine. For this dries up the fluid watery
humour with which all chubs do abound. But take this
rule with you, that a chub newly taken and newly dressed, is so much
better
than a chub of a day's keeping after he is dead, that I can compare
him---to
nothing so fitly as---to cherries newly gathered from a tree, and
others
that have been bruised and lain a day or two in water. But the chub
being
thus used; and dressed presently: and not washed after he is
gutted---for
note,---that lying long in water, and washing the blood out of any fish
after they be gutted, abates much of their sweetness---you will find
the
chub (being dressed in the blood, and quickly) to be such meat as will
recompense your labour, and disabuse your opinion. Or you may
dress
the chavender or chub thus:--- When you have
scaled him, and cut off his tail and fins, and washed him very
clean;---then
chine or slit him through the middle, as a salt fish is usually cut;
then
give him three or four cuts or scotches on the back with your knife;
and
broil him on charcoal or wood coal, that is free from smoke. And all
the
time he is broiling, baste him with the best sweet butter, and good
store
of salt mixed with it. And to this, add a little thyme cut exceedingly
small, or bruised into the butter. The cheven thus dressed hath the
watery
taste taken away, for which so many except against him. Thus was the
cheven
dressed that you now liked so well, and commended so much. But note
again,
that if this chub, that you eat of, had been kept till to-morrow, he
had
not been worth a rush. And remember,---that his throat be washed very
clean,
I say very clean,---and his body not washed after he is gutted, as
indeed
no fish should be. Well,
scholar,
you see what pains I have taken to recover the lost credit of the poor
despised chub. And now I will give you some rules how to catch him: and
I am glad to enter you into the art of fishing by catching a chub; for
there is no better fish to enter a young angler,---he is so easily
caught,
but then it must be this particular way. Go to the
same
hole in which I caught my chub; where, in most hot days, you will find
a dozen or twenty chevens flaoting near the top of the water. Get two
or
three grasshoppers as yo go over the meadow: and get secretly behind
the
tree, and stand as free from motion as possible. Then put a grasshopper
on your hook; and let your hook hang a quarter of a rod short of the
water,
to which end you must rest your rod on some bough of the tree. But it
is
likely the chubs will sink down towards the bottom of the water, at the
first shadow of your rod: for the chub is the fearfulest of fishes; and
will do so if but a bird flies over him, and makes the least shadow on
the water. But they will presently rise up to the top again, and there
lie soaring till some shadow affrights them again. I say, when they lie
on top of the water, look out the best chub; which you, setting
yourself
in a fit place, may very easily see; and move your rod, as softly as a
snail moves, to that chub you intend to catch; let your bait fall
gently
on the water three or four inches before him, and he will infallibly
take
the bait. And you will be as sure to catch him; for he is one of the
leather-mouthed
fishes, of which a hook does scarecely ever lose its hold,---and
therefore
give him play enough before you offer to take him out of the water. Go
your way presently; take my rod, and do as I bid you; and I will sit
down
and mend my tackling till you return back.

Ven. Truly, my loving
master,
you have offered me as fair as I could wish. I'll go and observe your
directions. Look you,
master,
what I have done! that which joys my heart, caught just such another
chub
as yours was.

Pisc. Marry! and I am
glad
of it: I am like to have a towardly scholar of you. I now see, that
with
advice and practice, you wil make an angler in a short time. Have but a
love to it: and I'll warrant you.

Ven. But master! what
if I
could not have found a grasshopper?

Pisc. Then I may tell you,
that a
black snail, with his belly slit, to show the white; or a piece of soft
cheese; will usually do as well. Nay, sometimes a worm; or any kind of
fly, as the ant-fly, the flesh-fly, or wall-fly; or the dor or beetle,
which you may find under cow-dung; or a bob, which you will find in the
same place, and in time will be a beetle,---it is a short white worm,
like
to and bigger than a gentle; or a cod-worm; or a case-worm; any of
these
will do very well to fish in such a manner. And after
this
manner you may catch a trout, in a hot evening; when as you walk by a
brook,
and shall see or hear him leap at flies; then if you get a grasshopper,
put it on your hook, with your line about two yards long; standing
behind
a bush or tree where his hole is, and make your bait stir up and down
on
top of the water; you may, if you stand close, be sure of a bite, but
not
sure to catch him,---for he is not a leather-mouthed fish. And after
this
manner you may fish for him with almost any kind of live fly, but
especially
with a grasshopper.

Ven. But before you go
further,
I pray, good master, what mean you by a leather-mouthed fish?

Pisc. By a
leather-mouthed
fish, I mean such as have their teeth in their throat, as the chub or
cheven;
and so the barbel, the gudgeon, and carp, and divers others have. And
the
hook being stuck into the leather, or skin of the mouth of such fish;
does
very seldom or never lose its hold: but on the contrary, a pike, a
perch,
or trout, and so some other fish, which have not their teeth in their
throats,
but in their mouths; which you shall observe to be very full of bones,
and the skin very thin, and little of it; I say, of these fish the hook
never takes so sure hold, but you often lose your fish, unless he have
gorged it.

Ven. I thank you, good
master,
for this observation. But now, what shall be done with my chub or
cheven
that I have caught?

Pisc. Marry! sir, it
shall
be given away to some poor body; for I'll warrant you I'll give you a
trout
for your supper: and it is a good beginning of your art to offer your
first-fruits
to the poor, who will both thank you and God for it, which I see by
your
silence you seem to consent to. And for your willingness to part with
it
so charitably, I will also teach more concerning chub-fishing: you are
to note, that in March and April he is usually taken with worms; in
May,
June, and July, he will bite at any fly, or at cherries,---or at
beetles
with their legs and wings cut off,---or at any kind of snail,---or at a
black bee, that breeds in clay walls. and he never refuses a
grasshopper,
on the top of a swift stream; nor, at the bottom, the young humble bee
that breeds in long grass, and is ordinarily found by the mower of it.
In August, and in the cooler months, a yellow paste, made of the
strongest
cheese and pounded in a mortar, with a little butter and saffron, so
much
of it as being beaten small will turn it to a lemon colour. And some
make
a paste, for the winter months (at which time the chub is accounted
best;
for then it is observed, that the forked bones are lost, or turned into
a kind of gristle, especially if he be baked), of cheese and
turpentine.
He will bite also at a minnow, or penk; as a trout will: of which I
shall
tell you more hereafter, and of divers other baits. But take this for a
rule, that in hot weather he is to be fished for towards the mid-water,
or near the top; and in colder weather, nearer the bottom. And if you
fish
for him on the top, with a beetle, or any fly; then be sure to let your
line be very long, and to keep out of sight. And having told you that
his
spawn is excellent meat,---and that the head of a large cheven, the
throat
being well washed, is the best part of him, I will say no more of this
fish at present, but wish you may catch the next you fish for. But, lest you
may judge me too nice in urging to have the chub dressed so presently
after
he is taken, I will commend to your consideration how curious former
times
have been in the like kind. You shall
read
in Seneca's "Natural Questions," lib. iii. cap. 17, that the ancients
were
so curious in the newness of their fish, that that seemed not new
enough
that was not put alive into the guest's hand. And he says, that to that
end they did usually keep them living in glass bottles in their
dining-rooms;
and they did glory much, in their entertaining of friends, to have that
fish taken from under their table alive that was instantly to be fed
upon.
And he says, they took great pleasure to see their mullets change to
several
colors, when they were dying. But enough of this; for I doubt I have
stayed
too long from giving you some observations of the trout, and how to
fish
for him,---which shall take up the next of my spare time.

THE THIRD DAY.

(Continued.)

CHAPTER
IV.

OBSERVATIONS
OF THE
NATURE AND BREEDING OF THE TROUT, AND HOW TO FISH FOR HIM. AND THE
MILKMAID'S
SONG.

______

Piscator. The trout is
a fish
highly valued, both in this and foreign nations. He may be justly said,
as the old poet said of wine, and we English say of venison, to be a
generous
fish: a fish that is so like the buck, that he also has his seasons;
for
it is observed, that he comes in and goes out of season with the stag
and
buck. Gesner says, his name is of German offspring; and he says he is a
fish that feeds clean and purely, in the swiftest streams,and on the
hardest
gravel; and that he may justly contend with all fresh-water fish; as
the
mullet may with all sea-fish, for precedency and daintiness of taste;
and
that being in right season, the most dainty palates have allowed
precedency
to him. And before I
go further into my discourse, let me tell you, that you are to observe,
that as there be some barren does that are good in summer, so there be
some barren trouts that are good in winter; but there are not many that
are so; for usually they be in their perfection in the month of May,
and
decline with the buck. Now you are to take notice, that in several
countries---as
in Germany, and in other parts---compared to ours, fish do differ much
in their bigness and shape, and other ways, and so do trouts. It is
well
known, that in the Lake Leman, the lake of Geneva, there are trouts
taken
of three cubits long; as is affirmed by Gesner, a writer of good
credit.
And Mercator says, the trouts that are taken in the Lake of Geneva are
a great part of the merchandise of that famous city. And you are
further
to know, that there be certain waters that breed trouts remarkable,
both
for their number and smallness. I know a little brook in Kent, that
breeds
them to a number incredible, and you may take them twenty or forty in
an
hour, but none greater than about the size of a gudgeon. There are
also,
in divers rivers---especially that relate to, or be near to the sea, as
Winchester, or the Thames about Windsor---a little trout called a
samlet,
or skegger trout; in both which places I have caught twenty or forty at
a standing, that will bite as fast and as freely as minnows: these be
by
some taken to be young salmons; but, in those waters they never grow to
be bigger than a herring. There is also
in Kent, near to Canterbury, a trout called there a Fordidge trout, a
trout
that bears the name of the town where it is usually caught, that is
accounted
the rarest of fish; many of them near the bigness of a salmon,
but
known by their different colour; and in their best season they cut very
white: and none of these have been known to be caught with an angle,
unless
it were one that was caught by Sir George Hastings, an excellent
angler,
and now with God; and he hath told me, he thought that trout bit, not
for
hunger, but wantonness; and it is the rather to be believed, because
both
he, then, and many others before him, have been curious to search into
their bellies, what the food was by which they lived, and have found
out
nothing by which they might satisfy their curiosity. Concering
which
you are to take notice, that it is reported by good authors, that
grasshoppers,
and some fish have no mouths, but are nourished and take breath by the
porousness of their gills, man knows not how; and this may be believed,
if we consider that when the raven hath hatched her eggs, she takes no
further care, but leaves her young ones to the care of the God of
nature,
who is said in the Psalms, "To feed the young ravens that call upon
him;"
and they be kept alive and fed, by dew, or worms that breed in their
nests;
or some other way that we mortals know not. And this may be believed of
the Fordidge trout, which---as it is said of the stork, that he knows
his
season, so he knows his times, I think almost his day, of coming into
that
river out of the sea; where he lives, and (it is like) feeds nine
months
of the year; and fasts three in the river of Fordidge. And you are to
note,
that those townsmen are very punctual in observing the time of
beginning
to fish for them; and boast much that their river affords a trout that
exceeds all others. And just so does Sussex boast of several fish; as
namely,
a Shelsey cockle, a Chichester lobster, an Arundel mullet, and an
Amerly
trout. And, now, for
some confrontation of the Fordidge trout: you are to know that this
trout
is thought to eat nothing in the fresh water; and it may be the better
believed, because it is well known that swallows, and bats, and
wagtails---which
are called half-year birds, and not seen to fly in England for six
months
in the year, but, about Michaelmas, leave us for a hotter climate
---yet
some of them that have been left behind their fellows, have been found,
many thousands at a time, in hollow trees, or clay caves, where they
have
been observed to live, and sleep out the whole winter, without meat.
And
so Albertus observes, that there is one kind of frog that hath her
mouth
naturally shut up about the end of August, and she lives so all the
winter;
and though it be strange to some, yet it is known to too many among us
to be doubted. And so much
for
these Fordidge trouts, which never afford an angler sport; but either
live
their time of being in the fresh water, by their meat formerly gotten
in
the sea,---(not unlike the swallow or frog)---or by virtue of the fresh
water only,---or, as the birds of paradise and the chameleon are said
to
live, by the sun and the air. There is also
in Northumberland a trout called a bull-trout, of a much greater length
and bigness than any in these southern parts. And there are, in many
rivers
that relate to the sea, salmon-trouts, as much different from others,
both
in shape and in their sopts, as we see sheep in some countries differ
from
one another, in their shape and bigness, and the fineness of their
wool.
And, certainly, as some pastures breed larger sheep, so do some rivers,
by reason of the ground over which they run, breed larger trouts. Now the next
thing that I will commend to your consideration is, that the trout is
of
a more sudden growth than other fish. Concerning which, you are also to
take notice, that he lives not so long as the perch, and divers other
fishes
do; as Sir Francis Bacon hath observed in his "History of Life and
Death." And next you
are to take notice, that he is not like the crocodile, which if he
lives
nver so long, yet always thrives till his death; but it is not so with
the trout, for after he is come to his full growth, he declines in his
body, and keeps his bigness, or thrives only in his head, till his
death.
And you are to know, that he will, about (especially before) the
time of his spawning, get, almost miraculously, through weirs and
flood-gates,
against the streams; even through such high and swift places as is
almost
incredible. Next, that the trout usually spawns about October or
November,
but in some rivers a little sooner or later, which is the more
observable,
because most other fish spawn in the spring or summer, when the sun
hath
warmed both the earth and water, and made it fit for generation.
And you are to note, that he continues many months out of season; for
it
may be observed of the trout, that he is like the buck, or the ox, that
will be fat in many months, though he go in the very same pastures that
horses do, which will be fat in one month. And so you may observe, that
most other fishes recover strength, and grow sooner fat and in season
than
the trout doth. And next you
are to note, that till the sun gets to such a height as to warm the
earth
and the water, the trout is sick and lean, and lousy, and unwholesome;
for you shall, in winter, find him to have a big head, and then, to be
lank, and thinand lean, at which time many of them have sticking on
them
sugs, or trout-lice; which is a kind of a worm, in shape like a clove,
or pin with a big head, and sticks close to him and sucks his moisture;
those, I think, the trout breeds himself, and never thrives till he
free
himself from them, which is when warm weather comes; and then, as he
grows
stronger, he gets from the dead still water into the sharp streams and
the gravel, and there rubs off these worms or or lice; and then, as he
grows stronger, so he gets him into swifter and swifter streams, and
there
lies at the watch for any fly or minnow that comes near to him; and he
especially loves the May-fly, which is bred of the cod-worm, or cadis;
and these make the trout bold and lusty. And he is usually fatter and
better
meat at the end of that month (May) than at any time of the year. Now you are to know, that
it is observed, that usually the best trouts are either red or yellow;
though some, as the Fordidge trout, be white, and yet good; but that is
not usual. And it is a note observable, that the female trout hath
usually
a less head, and a deeper body than the male trout, and is usually the
better meat. And note, that a hogback and a little head---to either
trout,
salmon, or any other fish--is a sign that that fish is in season. But yet you
are
to note, that as you see in some willows, or palm-trees, bud and
blossom
sooner than others do; so some trouts be, in rivers, sooner in season:
and as some hollies, or oaks, are longer before they cast their leaves;
so are some trouts, in rivers, longer before they go out of season. And you are
to
note, that there are several kinds of trouts: But these several kinds
are
not considered but by very few men; for they go under the general name
of trouts,---just as pigeons do, in most places; though it is certain,
there are tame and wild pigeons; and of the tame, there be helmits and
runts, and carriers and croppers, and indeed too many to name. Nay, the
Royal Society have found and published lately, that there be thirty and
three kinds of spiders; and yet all, for aught I know, go under that
one
general name of spider. And it is so with many kinds of fish, and of
trouts
especially; which differ in their bigness and shape, and spots and
colour.
The great Kentish hens may be an instance, compared to other hens. And,
doubtless, there is a kind of small trout, which will never thrive to
be
big; that breeds very many more than others do, that be of a larger
size:
which you may rather believe, if you consider that the little wren and
titmouse will have twenty young ones at a time, when usually, the noble
hawk, or the musical thrassel or blackbird, exceed not four or five. And now you
shall
see me try my skill to catch a trout. And at my next walking, either
this
evening or to-morrow morning, I will give you direction how you
yourself
shall fish for him.

Ven. Trust me, master!
I see
now it is a harder matter to catch a trout than a chub: for I have put
on patience, and followed you these two hours, and not seen a fish
stir,
neither at your minnow nor your worm.

Pisc. Well, scholar!
you must
endure worse luck sometime, or you will never make a good angler. But
what
say you now? there is a trout now, and a good one too, if I can but
hold
him: and two or three turns more will tire him; now you see he lies
still,
and the sleight is to land him: reach me that landing-net. So, sir, now
he is mine own: what say you now, is not this worth all my labor and
your
patience?

Ven. On my word,
master! this
is a gallant trout; what shall we do with him?

Pisc. Marry! e'en eat
him
to supper: we'll go to my hostess from whence we came; she told me, as
I was going out of door, that my brother Peter, a good angler and a
cheerful
companion, had sent word he would lodge there to-night, and bring a
friend
with him. My hostess has two beds, and I know you and I have the best;
we'll rejoice with my brother Peter and his friend, tell tales, or sing
ballads, or make a catch, or find some harmless sport to content us,
and
pass away a little time without offence to God or man.

Ven. A match, good
master!
let's go to that house, for the linen looks white, and smells of
lavender,
and I long to lie in a pair of sheets that smell so. Let's be going,
good
master, for I am hungry again, with fishing.

Pisc. Nay, stay a
little,
good scholar. I caught my last trout with a worm; now, I will put on a
minnow, and try a quarter of an hour about yonder trees for another:
and
so, walk towards our lodging. Look you, scholar! thereabout, we shall
have
a bite presently, or not at all. Have with you, sir: o'my word I have
hold
of him. Oh! it is a great logger-headed chub; come, hang him upon that
willow twig, and let's be going. But turn out of the way a little, good
scholar, toward yonder high honeysuckle hedge; there, we'll sit and
sing,
whilst this shower falls so gently upon the teeming earth, and gives
yet
a sweeter smell to the lovely flowers that adorn these verdant meadows. Look! under
that
broad beech-tree, I sat down, when I was last this way a-fishing. And
the
birds in the adjoining grove seemed to have a friendly contention with
an echo, whose dead voice seemed to live in a hollow tree, near to the
brow of that primrose-hill. There, I sat viewing the silver streams
glide
silently towards their centre, the tempestuous sea; yet sometimes
opposed
by rugged roots and pebblestones, which broke their waves, and turned
them
into foam. And sometimes I beguiled time by viewing the harmless lambs;
some leaping securely in the cool shade, whilst others sported
themselves
in the cheerful sun,---and saw others craving comfort from the swollen
udders of their bleating dams. As I thus sat, these and other sights
had
so fully possest my soul with content, that I thought, as the poet has
happily expressed it,

I was for
that
time lifted above earth; And possest
joys
not not promised in my birth.

As I left
this
place and entered into the next field, a second pleasure entertained
me:
'twas a handsome milk-maid, that had not yet attained so much age and
wisdom
as to load her mind, with any fears of many things that will never be,
as too many men too often do: but she cast away all care, and sung like
a nightingale; her voice was good; and the ditty fitted for it,---it
was
that smooth song, which was made by Kit Marlow, now at least fifty
years
ago. And the milk-maid's mother sung an answer to it, which was made by
Sir Walter Raleigh in his younger days. They were
old-fashioned
poetry, but choicely good; I think, much better than the strong lines
which
are now in fashion in this critical age. Look yonder! on my word,
yonder,
they both be a milking again. I will give her the chub, and persuade
them
to sing those two songs to us. God speed
you,
good woman! I have been a fishing; and am going to Bleak-hall to my
bed;
and having caught more fish than will sup myself and my friend, I will
bestow this upon you and your daughter, for I use to sell none.

Milk-w. Marry! God
requite
you, sir, and we'll eat it cheerfully. And if you come this way
a-fishing
two months hence, a grace of God! I'll give you syllabub of new
verjuice,
in a new-made haycock, for it. And my Maudlin shall sing you one of her
best ballads; for she and I both love all anglers, they be such honest,
civil, quiet men. In the meantime will you drink a draught of red cow's
milk? you shall have it freely.

Pisc. No, I thank you;
but,
I pray, do us a courtesy that shall stand you and your daughter in
nothing,
and yet we will think ourselves still something in your debt: it is but
to sing us a song that was sung by your daughter when I, last, past
over
this meadow, about eight or nine days since.

Pisc. No, it is none
of those;
it is a song that your daughter sung the first part, and you sung the
answer
to it.

Milk-w. O, I know it
now.
I learned the first part in my golden age, when I was about the age of
my poor daughter; and the latter part, which indeed fits me best now,
but
two or three years ago, when the cares of the world began to take hold
of me: but you shall, God willing, hear them both; and sung as well as
we can, for we both love anglers. Come, Maudlin! sing the first part to
the gentlemen, with a merry heart; and I'll sing the second, when you
have
done.

THE
MILK-MAID'S
SONG.

Come live
with
me, and be my love; And we will
all
the pleasures prove, That valleys,
groves, or hills, or field, Or woods, and
steepy mountains yield,---

Where we
will
sit, upon the rocks, And see the
shepherds
feed our flocks, By shallow
rivers;
to whose falls, Melodious
birds
sing madrigals.

And I will
make
thee beds of roses; And, then, a
thousand fragrant posies; A cap of
flowers;
and a kirtle, Embroider'd
all
with leaves of myrtle;

A gown
made of
the finest wool, Which from
our
pretty lambs we pull: Slippers,
lined
choicely for the cold; With buckles
of the purest gold

A belt, of
straw
and ivy-buds, With coral
clasps,
and amber studs. And if these
pleasures may thee move, Come live
with
me, and be my love.

Thy silver
dishes
for thy meat As precious
as
the Gods do eat, Shall, on an
ivory table, be Prepared each
day for thee and me.

The
shepherd swains
shall dance and sing, For thy
delight,
each May morning. If these
delights
thy mind may move, Then live
with
me, and be my love.

Ven. Trust me, master!
it
is a choice song, and sweetly sung by honest Maudlin. I see now it was
not without cause, that our good Queen Elizabeth did so often wish
herself
a milk-maid all the month of May; because they are not troubled with
fears
and cares, but sing sweetly all the day, and sleep securely all the
night,---and
without doubt, honest, innocent, pretty Maudlin does so. I'll bestow
Sir
Thomas Overbury's milk-maid's wish upon her, "That she may die in the
spring;
and being dead, may have good store of flowers stuck round about her
winding-sheet."

THE
MILK-MAID'S
MOTHER'S ANSWER.

If all the
world
and love were young; And truth in
every shepherd's tongue, These pretty
pleasures might me move; To live with
thee and be thy love.

But Time
drives
flocks from field to fold; When rivers
rage,
and rocks grow cold, Then Philomel
becometh dumb; And age
complains
of care to come.

The
flowers do
fade, and wanton fields The wayward
winter,
reckoning, yields. A honey
tongue,
a heart of gall, Is fancy's
spring,
but sorrow's fall.

The belt
of straw,
and ivy buds, The coral
clasps,
and amber studs,--- All these in
me no means can move, To come to
thee,
and be thy love.

What
should we
talk of dainties, then, Of better
meat
than's fit for men? These are but
vain; that's only good Which God
hath
blest, and sent for food.

But could
youth
last; and, love still breed; Had joys no
date;
nor age no need; Then those
delights
my mind might move, To live with
thee, and be thy love.

Mother. Well! I have
done
my song. But stay, honest angler! for I will make Maudlin sing you one
short song more. Maudlin! sing that song that you sung last night, when
young Coridon the shepherd played so purely on his oaten pipe, to you
and
your cousin Betty.

Maud. I will, mother!

I married
a wife
of late, The more's my
unhappy fate:
I married her for love,
As my fancy did me move, And not for a
worldly estate.
But oh! the green sickness
Soon changeth her likeness; And all her
beauty
did fail.
But 'tis not so, with those that go,
Through frost and snow,
As all men know, And carry the
milking-pail.

Pisc. Well sung. Good
woman!
I thank you. I'll give you another dish of fish one of these days; and
then beg another song of you. Come, scholar! let Maudlin alone: do not
you offer to spoil her voice. Look! yonder comes mine hostess to call
us
to supper. How now! is my brother Peter come?

Hostess. Yes, and a
friend
with him. They are both glad to hear that you are in these parts; and
long
to see you; and long to be at supper, for they be very hungry.

THE THIRD DAY.

(Continued.)

CHAPTER
V.

MORE
DIRECTIONS HOW
TO FISH FOR, AND HOW TO MAKE FOR THE TROUT AN ARTIFICIAL MINNOW AND
FLIES,
WITH SOME MERRIMENT.

______

Pisc. WELL met,
brother Peter!
I heard that you and a friend would lodge here to-night; and that hath
made me to bring my friend to lodge here too. My friend is one that
would
fain be a brother of the angle: he hath been an angler but this day;
and
I have taught him how to catch a chub by daping with a grasshopper; and
the chub he caught was a lusty one of nineteen inches long. But pray,
brother
Peter! Who is your companion?

Peter. Brother
Piscator! my
friend is an honest country-man, and his name is Coridon: and he is a
downright
witty companion, that met me here purposely to be pleasant and eat a
trout;
and I have not wetted my line since we met together: but I hope to fit
him with a trout for his breakfast; for I'll be early up.

Pisc. Nay, brother!
you shall
not stay so long; for look you! here is a trout will fill six
reasonable
bellies. Come,
hostess!
dress it presently, and get us what other meat the house will afford;
and
give us some of your best barley-wine, the good liquor that our honest
forefathers did use to drink of; the drink which preserved their
health,
and made them live so long, and to do so many good deeds.

Peter. O' my word!
this trout
is perfect in season. Come, I thank you, and here is a hearty draught
to
you, and to all the brothers of the angle wheresoever they be, and to
my
young brother's good fortune to-morrow: I will furnish him with a rod,
if you will furnish him with the rest of the tackling; we will set him
up and make him a fisher. And I will
tell
him one thing for his encouragement, that his fortune hath made him
happy
to be the scholar to such a master; a master that knows as much both of
the nature and breeding of fish as any man---and can also tell him as
well
how to catch and cook them, from the minnow to the salmon, as any that
I ever met withal.

Pisc. Trust me,
brother Peter!
I find my scholar to be so suitable to my own good humour, which is to
be free and pleasant and civilly merry, that my resolution is to hide
nothing
that I know from him. Believe me, scholar! this is my resolotion; and
so
here's to you a hearty draught, and to all that love us and the honest
art of angling.

Ven. Trust me, good
master!
you shall not sow your seed in barren ground; for I hope to return you
an increse answerable to your hopes: but, however, you shall find me
obedient,
and thankful, and serviceable to my best ability.

Pisc. 'Tis enough,
honest
scholar! come, let's to supper. Come, my friend Coridon, this trout
looks
lovely; it was twenty-two inches when it was taken; and the belly of it
looked, some part of it, as yellow as a marigold, and part of it as
white
as a lily; and yet, methinks, it looks better in this good sauce.

Cor. Indeed, honest
friend!
it looks well and tastes well; I thank you for it, and so doth my
friend
Peter, or else he is to blame.

Peter. Yes, and so I
do; we
all thank you; and, when we have supped, I will get my friend Coridon
to
sing you a song for requital.

Cor. I will sing a
song, if
anybody will sing another: else to be plain with you, I will sing none:
I am none of those that sing for for meat--but for company: I say, "
'Tis
merry in hall, when men sing all."

Pisc. I'll promise you
I'll
sing a song that was lately made, at my request, by Mr. William Basse;
one that hath made the choice songs of the "Hunter in his career,"
and
of "Tom of Bedlam," and many others of note; and this that I will sing
is in praise of angling.

Cor. And then mine
shall be
the praise of a countryman's life: what will the rest sing of?

Peter. I will promise
you,
I will sing another song in praise of angling to-morrow night; for we
will
not part till then---but fish to-morrow, and sup together: and the next
day every man leave fishing, and fall to his business.

Ven. 'Tis a match; and
I will
provide you a song or a catch against then too, which shall give some
addition
of mirth to the company; for we will be civil and as merry as beggars.

Pisc. 'Tis a match, my
masters.
Let's e'en say grace, and turn to the fire, drink the other cup to whet
our whistles, and so sing away sad thoughts. Come on, my
masters!
who begins? I think it is best to draw cuts, and avoid contention.

The cuckow
and
the nightingale, Full merrily
do sing,
Heigh trolie lollie loe, &c. And with
their
pleasant roundelays Bid welcome
to
the spring:
Then care away, &c.

This is
not half
the happiness The
countryman
enjoys;
Heigh trolie lollie loe, &c. Though others
think they have as much, Yet he that
says
so, lies:
Then come away,
Turn countryman with me.

JO. CHALKHILL.

Pisc. Well sung,
Coridon!
this song was sung with mettle: and it was choicely fitted to the
occasion;
I shall love you for it as long as I know you. I would you were a
brother
of the angle; for a companion that is cheerful, and free from swearing
and scurrilous discourse, is worth gold. I love such mirth as does not
make friends ashamed to look upon one another next morning---nor men
that
cannot well bear it, to repent the money they spend when they be warmed
with drink. And take this for a rule, you may pick out such times, and
such companies, that you make yourselves merrier for a little than a
great
deal of money; for "'Tis the company and not the charge that makes the
feast"---and such a companion you prove; I thank you for it. But I will
not
compliment you out of the debt that I owe you, and therefore I will
begin
my song; and wish it may be so well liked.

THE
ANGLER'S SONG.

As inward
love
breeds outward talk,--- The hound
some
praise; and some the hawk Some, better
pleased with private sport, Use tennis;
some
a mistress court:
But these delights I neither wish,
Nor envy,---while I freely fish.

Who hunts,
doth
oft in danger ride; Who hawks,
lures
of both far and wide Who uses
games,
shall often prove A loser; but
who falls in love,
Is fetter'd in fond Cupid's snare:
My angle breeds me no such care.

Of
recreation
there is none So free as
fishing,
is, alone; All other
pastimes,
do no less Than mind and
body, both possess:
My hand alone my work can do
So, I can fish and study too.

I care
not, I
to fish in seas; Fresh rivers
best my mind do please; Whose sweet
calm
course I contemplate And seek in
life
to imitate:
In civil bounds I fain would keep,
And for my past offences weep.

And
when
the tim'rous trout I wait To
take;
and he devours my bait, How
poor
a thing, sometimes I find, Will
captivate
a greedy mind:
And when none bite, I praise the wise,
Whom vain allurements ne'er surprise.

But
yet,
though while I fish I fast, I make
good fortune my repast; And
thereunto
my friend invite,--- In whom
I more than that delight,---
Who is more welcome to my dish,
Than to my angle was my fish.

A
well content,
no prize to take, As use
of taken prize to make; For so
our Lord was pleased, when He
fishers
made fishers of men;
Where, which is in no other game,
A man may fish and praise his name.

The
first
men that our Saviour dear Did
choose
to wait upon him here, Blest
fishers
were; and fish the last Food
was,
that he on earth did taste.
I therefore strive to follow those,
Whom he to follow him hath chose.

W. B.

Cor. Well sung,
brother! you
have paid your debt in good coin. We anglers are all beholden to the
good
man that made this song: come, hostess! give us more ale: and let's
drink
to him. And now let's
every one go to bed, that we may rise early: but first let's pay our
reckoning,
for I will have nothing to himder me in the morning; for my purpose is
to prevent the sun-rising.

Pet. A match. Come,
Coridon!
you are to be my bed-fellow. I know, brother! you and your scholar will
lie together. But where shall we meet to-morrow night? for my friend
Coridon
and I will go up the water towards Ware.

Pisc. And my scholar
and I
will go down towards Waltham.

Cor. Then let's meet
here;
for here are fresh sheets that smell of lavender; and I am sure we
cannot
expect better meat, or better usage in any place.

Pet. 'Tis a match.
Good night
to every body.

Pisc. And so say I.

Ven. And so say I.

THE FOURTH
DAY.

CHAPTER V.

(Continued.)

______

Pisc. Good morrow,
good hostess!
I see my brother Peter is still in bed: come, give my scholar and me a
morning drink, and a bit of meat to breakfast: and be sure to get a
dish
of meat or two against supper, for we shall come home as hungry as
hawks.
Come, scholar, let's be going.

Ven. Well now, good
master!
as we walk towards the river, give me direction, according to your
promise,
how I shall fish for a trout.

Pisc. My honest
scholar, I
will take this very convenient opportunity to do it. The trout is
usually caught with a worm---or a minnow, which some call a penk---or
with
a fly, viz. either a natural or an artificial fly: concerning which
three
I will give you some observations and directions. And, first,
for
worms. Of these there be very many sorts: some breed only in the earth,
as the earth-worm; others of, or amongst, plants, as the dug-worm; and
others breed either out of excrements, or in the bodies of living
creatures,
as in the horns of sheep or deer; or some of dead flesh, as the maggot
or gentle, and others. Now these be
most of them particularly good for particular fishes. But for the
trout---the
dew-worm, which some also call the lob-worm, and the brandling, are the
chief, and especially the first for a great trout; and the latter
for a less. There be also, of lob-worms, some called squirrel-tails; a
worm that has a red head, a streak down the back, and a broad tail;
which
are noted to be the best, because they are the toughest and most
lively,
and live longest in the water---for you are to know that a dead worm is
but a dead bait, and like to catch nothing, compared to a lively quick
stirring worm. And for a brandling: he is usually found in an old
dunghill,
or some very rotten place near to it---but most usually in cow-dung, or
hog's-dung, rather than horse-dung which is somewhat too hot and dry
for
that worm. But the best of them are to be found in the bark of tanners;
which they cast up in heaps, after they have used it about their
leather. There are
also
divers other kinds of worms, which, for colour and shape, alter even as
the ground out of which they are got; as the marsh-worm, the tag-tail,
the flag-worm, the dock-worm, the oak-worm, the gilt-tail, the twachel,
or lob-worm, which of all others is the most excellent bait for a
salmon---and
too many to name, even as many sorts as some think there be of several
herbs or shrubs, or of several kinds of birds in the air: of which I
shall
say no more. But tell you, that what worms soever you fish with, are
the
better for being well scoured, that is, long kept before they be used;
and in case you have not been so provident, then, the way to cleanse
and
scour them quickly, is to put them all night in water, if they be
lob-worms,
and then put them into your bag with fennel; but you must not put your
brandlings above an hour in water, and then put them into fennel, for
sudden
use; but if you have time, and purpose to keep them long, then they be
best preserved in an earthen pot, with good store of moss, which is to
be fresh every three or four days in summer, and every week or eight
days
in winter, or, at least, the moss taken from them, and clean washed,
and
wrung betwixt your hands till it be dry, and then put it to them again.
And when your worms, especially the brandlings, begins to be sick and
lose
of his bigness, then you may recover him, by putting a little milk or
cream,
about a spoonful in a day, into them, by drops on the moss; and if
there
be added to the cream an egg beaten and boiled in it, then it will both
fatten and preserve them long. And note, that when the knot, which is
near
to the middle of the brandling, begins to swell, then he is sick; and,
if he be not well looked to, is near dying. And for moss, you are to
note,
that there be divers kinds of it, which I could name to you; but will
only
tell you, that that which is likest a buck's horn is the best, except
it
be soft white moss, which grows on some heaths, and is hard to be
found.
And note, that, in a very dry time, when you are put to an extremity
for
worms, walnut-tree leaves squeezed into water, or salt in water, to
make
it bitter, or salt, and then that water poured on the ground where, you
shall see, worms are used to rise in the night, will make them to
appear
above ground presently. And you may take notice, some say that camphire
put into your bag with your moss and worms, gives them a strong and so
tempting a smell, that the fish fare the worse, and you the better for
it. And now I
shall
show you how to bait your hook with a worm, so as shall prevent you
from
much trouble, and the loss of many a hook too, when you fish for a
trout
with a running line; that is to say, when you fish for him by hand at
the
ground. I will direct you in this as plainly as I can, that you may not
mistake. Suppose it be
a big lob-worm: put your hook into him somewhat above the middle, and
out
again a little below the middle; having done so, draw your worm above
the
arming of your hook; but note, that at the entering of your hook, it
must
not be at the head-end of the worm, but at the tail-end of him, that
the
point of your hook may come out toward the head-end, and, having
drawn him above the arming of your hook, then put the point of your
hook,
again, into the very head of the worm, till it come near to the place
where
the point of the hook first came out; and then draw back that of the
worm
that was above the shank or arming of your hook, and so fish with it.
And
if you mean to fish with two worms, then put the second on, before you
turn back the hook's head of the first worm. You cannot lose above two
or three worms before you attain to what I direct you; and having
attained
it, you will find it very useful, and thank me for it, for you will run
on the ground without tangling. Now for the minnow, or penk. He is not
easily found and caught till March, or in April, for then he appears
first
in the river; nature having taught him to shelter and hide himself in
the
winter, in diches that be near to the river, and there, both to hide
and
keep himself warm in the mud, or in the weeds, which rot not so soon as
in a running river, in which place if he were in winter, the
distempered
floods that are usually in that season would suffer him to take no
rest,
but carry him headlong to mills and weirs, to his confusion. And of
these
minnows: first, you are to know that the biggest size is not the best;
and next, that the middle size and the whitest are the best; and then,
you are to know, that your minnow must be so put on your hook, that it
must turn round when 'tis drawn against the stream; and that it may
turn
nimbly, you must put it on a big-sized hook, as I shall now direct you,
which is thus: put your hook in at his mouth, and out of his gill;
then,
having drawn your hook two or three inches beyond or through his gill,
put it again into his mouth, and the point and beard out at his tail;
and
then tie the hook and his tail about, very neatly, with a white thread,
which will make it the apter to turn quick in the water; that done,
pull
back that part of your line which was slack when you did put your hook
into the minnow the second time; I say, pull that part of your line
back,
so that it shall fasten the head, so that the body of the minnow shall
be almost straight on your hook; this done, try how it will turn, by
drawing
it across the water, or against a stream; and if it do not turn nimbly,
then turn the tail a little to the right or left hand, and try again
till
it turn quick: for if not, you are in danger to catch nothing; for
know,
that it is impossible that it should turn too quick. And you are yet to
know, that in case you want a minnow, then a small loach, or a
stickle-bag,
or any other small fish that will turn quick, will serve as well. And
you
are yet to know, that you may salt them, and by that means keep them
ready
and fit for use three or four days, or longer; and that, of salt,
bay-salt
is the best. And here, let
me tell you what many old anglers know right well, that at some times,
and in some waters, a minnow is not to be got; and therefore (let me
tell
you) I have, which I will show to you, an artificial minnow, that will
catch a trout as well as an artificial fly; and it was made by a
handsome
woman that had a fine hand, and a live minnow lying by her; the mould
or
body of the minnow was cloth,---and wrought upon, or over it, thus with
a needle,---the back of it with very sad French green silk, and paler
green
silk towards the belly, shadowed as perfectly as you can imagine, just
as you see a minnow; the belly was wrought also with a needle, and it
was
a part of it white silk, and another part of it with silver thread; the
tail and fins were of a quill, which was shaven thin; the eyes were of
two little black beads; and the head was so shadowed, and all of it so
curiously wrought, and so exactly dissembled, that it would beguile any
sharp-sighted trout in a swift stream. And this minnow I will now show
you; look! here it is; and if you like it, lend it you, to have two or
three made by it; for they be easily carried about an angler; and be of
excellent use, for note, that a large trout will come as fiercely at a
minnow, as the highest mettled hawk doth seize on a partridge, or a
greyhound
on a hare. I have been told that 160 minnows have been found in a
trout's
belly; either the trout had devoured so many, or the miller that that
gave
it a friend of mine had forced them down his throat after he had taken
him. Now for
flies;
which is the third bait wherewith trouts are usually take. You are to
know,
that there are so many sorts of flies, as there be of fruits: I will
name
you but some of them; as the dun-fly, the stone-fly, the red-fly[,] the
moor-fly, the tawny-fly, the shell-fly, the cloudy or blackish-fly, the
flag-fly, the vine-fly: there be---of flies---caterpillars, and
canker-flies,
and bear-flies; and indeed too many either for me to name, or for you
to
remember. And their breeding is so various and wonderful, that I might
easily amaze myself, and tire you in a relation of them. And, yet, I
will
exercise your promised patience by saying a little of the caterpillar,
or the palmer-fly or worm; that by them you may guess what a work it
were,
in a discourse, but to run over those very many flies, worms, and
little
living creatures, with which the sun and summer adorn and beautify the
river-banks, and meadows; both for the recreation and contemplation of
us anglers,---pleasures which, I think, myself enjoy more than any
other
man that is not of my profession. Pliny holds
an
opinion, that many have their birth, or being, from a dew that in the
spring
falls upon the leaves of trees; and that some kinds of them are from a
dew left upon herbs or flowers, and others from a dew left upon the
coleworts
or cabbages. All which kinds of dews being thickened and condensed, are
by the sun's generative heat, most of them, hatched,---and, in these
days,
made living creatures: and these of several shapes and colours; some
being
hard and tough, some smooth and soft; some are horned in their
head,---some
in their tail, some have none; some have hair, some none; some have
sixteen
feet, some less, and some have none,---but (as our Topsel hath, with
great
diligence, observed,) those which have none, move upon the earth, or
upon
broad leaves, their motion being not unlike to the waves of the sea.
Some
of them, he also observes to be bred of the eggs of other caterpillars,
and that those in their time turn to be butterflies; and again, that
their
eggs turn the following year to be caterpillars. And some affirm, that
every plant hath its particular fly or caterpillar, which it breeds and
feeds. I have seen, and may therefore affirm it, a green caterpillar,
or
worm, as big as a small peascod, which had fourteen legs, eight on the
belly, four under the neck, and two near the tail. It was found on a
hedge
of privet, and put into a large box, and a little branch or two of
privet
put to it, on which I saw it feed as sharply as a dog gnaws a bone; it
lived, thus, five or six days,---and thrived, and changed the colour
two
or three times,---but by some neglect in the keeper of it, it then died
and did not turn into a fly: but if it had lived, it had doubtless
turned
into one of those flies that some call flies of prey, which those that
walk by the rivers may, in summer, see fasten on smaller flies,
and
I think, make them their food. And it is observable, that as there be
these
flies of prey, which be very large; so there be others, very little,---
created, I think, only to feed them, and breed out of I know not what;
whose life, they say, nature intended not to exceed an hour,---and yet
that life is, thus, made shorter by other flies, or by accident. It is endless
to tell you, what the curious searchers into nature's productions have
observed of these worms and flies: but yet I shall tell you what
Aldrovandus,
our Topsel, and others, say of the palmer-worm, or caterpillar: That
whereas
others content themselves to feed on particular herbs or leaves; (for
most
think, those very leaves that gave them life and shape give them a
particular
feeding and nourishment, and that upon them they usually abide;) yet he
observes, that this is called a pilgrim, or palmer-worm, for his very
wandering
life, and various food,---not contenting himself, as others do, with
any
one certain place for his abode, nor any certain kind of herb or flower
for his feeding; but will boldly and disorderly wander up and down, and
not endure to be kept to a diet, or fixt to a particular place. Nay, the very
colours of caterpillars are, as one has observed, very elegant and
beautiful.
I shall, for a taste of the rest, describe one of them; which I will
some
time the next month, show you feeding on a willow-tree,---and you shall
find him punctually to answer this description: his lips and mouth
somewhat
yellow; his eyes black as jet; his forehead purple; his feet and hinder
parts green; his tail two-forked and black; the whole body stained with
a kind of red spots, which run along the neck and shoulder-blade, not
unlike
the form of St. Andrew's cross, or the letter X, made thus cross-wise,
and a white line drawn down his back to his tail; all which add much
beauty
to his whole body. And it is to me observable, that at a fixed age,
this
caterpillar gives over to eat; and, towards winter, comes to be covered
over with a strange shell or crust, called an aurelia; and so lives a
kind
of dead life, without eating, all the winter; and as others of several
kinds turn to be several kinds of flies and vermin, the spring
following;
so this caterpillar, then, turns to be a painted butterfly. Come, come,
my
scholar, you see the river stops our morning walk: and I will also here
stop my discourse,---only as we sit down under this honeysuckle hedge,
whilst I look a line to fit the rod that our brother Peter hath lent
you,
I shall, for a little confirmation of what I have said, repeat the
observation
of Du Bartas:---

God---not
contented
to each kind to give, And to
infuse,
the virtue generative--- By his
wise power made many creatures breed Of
lifeless
bodies, without Venus' deed.

So
the Cold
Humour breeds the Salamander; Who, in
effect, like to her birth's commander, With
child
with hundred winters, with her touch
Quencheth
the fire though glowing ne'er so much.

So
in the
fire, in burning furnace, springs The fly
Perausta with the flaming wings: Without
the fire it dies: in it, it joys, Living
in that which all things else destroys.

So
slow
Bootes underneath him sees, In
th'icy
islands, goslings, hatch'd of trees, Whose
fruitful
leaves falling into the waters, Are
turn'd,
'tis known, to living fowls soon after.

So
rotten
planks of broken ships do change To
barnacles.
Oh transformation strange! 'Twas
first
a green tree; then a broken hull; Lately,
a mushroom; now, a flying gull.

Ven. O my good master,
this
morning-walk has been spent to my great pleasure and wonder: but I
pray,
when shall I have your direction---how to make artificial flies, like
to
those that the trout loves best; and also, how to use them?

Pisc. My honest
scholar, it
is now past five of the clock: we will fish till nine; and then go to
breakfast.
Go you to yon sycamore-tree, and hide your bottle of drink under the
hollow
root of it; for about that time, and in that place, we will make a
brave
breakfast with a piece of powdered beef, and a radish or two that I
have
in my fish-bag; we shall, I warrant you, make a good, honest,
wholesome,
hungry breakfast. And I will, then, give you direction for the making
and
using of your flies: and in the mean time, there is your rod and line,
and my advice is, that you fish as you see me do, and let's try which
can
catch the first fish.

Ven. I thank you,
master!
I will observe and practise your direction as far as I am able.

Pisc. Look you,
scholar! you
see I have hold of a good fish: I now see it is a trout: I pray, put
that
net under him, and touch not my line, for if you do, then we break all.
Well done, scholar! I thank you. Now, for
another.
Trust me, I have another bite: Come scholar, lay down your rod, and
help
me to land this as you did the other. So, now, we shall be sure to have
a good dish of fish for supper.

Ven. I am glad of
that: but
I have no fortune: sure, master! yours is a better rod and better
tackling.

Pisc. Nay, then, take
mine;
and I will fish with yours. Look you, scholar! I have another. Come, do
as you did before. And now I have a bite at another. Oh me! he has
broke
all; there's half a line and a good hook lost.

Ven. Ay, and a good
trout
too.

Pisc. Nay, the trout
is not
lost; for, pray, take notice, no man can lose what he never had.

Ven. Master! I
can neither
catch with the first nor the second angle: I have no fortune.

Pisc. look you,
scholar! I
have yet another. And, now, having caught three brace of trouts, I will
tell you a short tale as we walk towards our breakfast: A scholar, a
preacher
I should say, that was to preach to procure the approbation of a parish
that he might be their lecturer, had got from his fellow pupil the copy
of a sermon that was preached with great commendation by him that
composed
it: and though the borrower of it preached it, word for word as it was
at first; yet it was utterly disliked, as it was preached by the second
to his congregation---which the sermon-borrower complained of to the
lender
of it: and was thus answered: I lent you, indeed, my fiddle, but not my
fiddle-stick; for you are to know, that every one cannot make music
with
my words, which are fitted to my own mouth." And so, my scholar, you
are
to know, that as the ill pronunciation or ill accenting of words in a
sermon
spoils it, so the ill carriage of your line, or not fishing even to a
foot
in a right place, makes you lose your labour: and you are to know, that
though you have my fiddle, that is, my very rod and tacklings with
which
you see I catch fish,---yet you have not my fiddle-stick, that is, you
yet have not skill to know how to carry your hand and line, or how to
guide
it to a right place;---and this must be taught you; for you are to
remember,
I told you, angling is an art, either by practice or long observation,
or both. But take this for a rule, when you fish for a trout, with a
worm,---let
your line have so much, and not more lead than will fit the stream in
which
you fish: that is to say, more in a great, troublesome stream than in a
smaller that is quieter; as near as may be, so much as will sink the
bait
to the bottom, and keep it still in motion, and not more. But now let's say
grace,
and fall to breakfast. What say you, scholar, to the providence of an
old
angler? does not this meat taste well? and was not this place well
chosen
to eat it? for this sycamore tree will shade us from the sun's heat.

Ven. All excellent
good; and
my stomach excellent good, too. And now I remember and find that true
which
devout Lessius says, "that poor men, and those that fast often, have
much
more pleasure in eating than rich men, and gluttons, that always feed
before
their stomachs are empty of their last meat and call for more; for by
that
means, they rob themselves of that pleasure that hunger brings to poor
men." And I do seriously approve of that saying of yours,"that you had
rather be a civil, well-governed, well-grounded, temperate, poor
angler,
than a drunken lord." But I hope there is none such. However I am
certain
of this, that I have been at many costly dinners that have not afforded
me half the content that this has done; for which I thank God and you. And now, good
master! proceed to your promised direction for making and ordering my
artificial
fly.

Pisc. My honest
scholar, I
will do it; for it is a debt due unto you by my promise. And because
you
shall not think yourself more engaged to me than indeed you really
are,---I
will freely give you such directions as were lately given to me by an
ingenious
brother of the angle, an honest man, and a most excellent fly-fisher. You are to
note,
that there are twelve kinds of artificial made-fies, to angle with upon
the top of the water. Note, by the way, that the fittest season of
using
these, is a blustering windy day, when the waters are so troubled that
the natural fly cannot be seen, or rest upon them. The first is the
dun-fly,
in March: the body is made of dun-wool; the wings of the partridge's
feathers.
The second is another dun-fly: the body of black wool; and the wings
made
of the black drake's feathers, and of the feathers under his tail. The
third is the stone-fly, in April: the body is made of black wool; made
yellow under the wings and under the tail, and so made with wings of
the
drake. The fourth is the ruddy-fly, in the beginning of May: the body
made
of red wool, wrapt about with black silk; and the feathers are the
wings
of the drake; with the feathers of a red capon, also, which hang
dangling
on his sides next to the tail. The fifth is the yellow or greenish fly,
in May likewise; the body made of yellow wool; and the wings made of
the
red cock's hackle, or tail. The sixth is the black-fly, in May also:
the
body made of black wool, and lapt about with the herle of a peacock's
tail
the wings are made of the wings of a brown capon, with his blue
feathers
in his head. The seventh is the sad yellow-fly in June: the body is
made
of black wool, with a yellow list on either side: and the wings taken
off
the wings of a buzzard, bound with black braked hemp. The eighth is the
moorish-fly; made, with the body, of duskish wool; and the wings made
of
the blackish mail of the drake. The ninth is the tawny-fly, good until
the middle of June; the body made of tawny wool; the wings made
contrary
one against the other, made of the whitish mail of the wild drake. The
tenth is the wasp-fly in July: the body made of black wool, lapt about
with yellow sik; the wings made of the feathers of the drake, or of the
buzzard. The eleventh is the shell-fly, good in mid-July: the body made
of greenish wool, lapt about with the herle of a peacock's tail: and
the
wings made of the wings of the buzzard. The twelfth is the dark
drake-fly,
good in August: the body made with black wool, lapd about with black
silk:
his wings are made with the mail of the black drake, with a black head.
Thus have you a jury of flies likely to betray and condemn all the
trouts
in the river. I shall next
give you some other directions for fly-fishing, such as are given by
Mr.
Thomas Barker, a gentleman that hath spent much time in fishing: but I
shall do it with a little variation. First, let
your
rod be light, and very gentle: I take the best to be of two pieces. And
let not your line exceed---especially for three or four links next to
the
hook---I say, not exceed---three or four hairs at the most; though you
may fish a little stronger, above, in the upper part of your line: But
if you can attain to angle with one hair,---you shall have more rises,
and catch more fish. Now you must be sure not to cumber yourself with
too
long a line; as most do. And before you begin to angle, cast to have
the
wind on your back; and the sun, if it shines, to be before you; and to
fish down the stream; and carry the point or top of your rod downward,
by which means the shadow of yourself, and rod too, will be the least
offensive
to the fish,---for the sight of any shade amazes the fish, and spoils
your
sport, of which you must take great care. In the middle of
March,
till which time a man should not in honesty catch a trout---or in
April,
if the weather be dark, or a little windy or cloudy---the best fishing
is with the palmer worm, of which I last spoke to you; but of these
there
be divers kinds, or at least of divers colours: these and the May-fly
are
the ground of all fly-angling: which are to be thus made:--- First, you
must
arm your hook with the line, in the inside of it: then take your
scissors,
and cut so much of a brown mallard's feather as, in your reason, will
make
the wings of it,---you having, withal, regard to the bigness or
littleness
of your hook; then lay the outmost part of your feather next to your
hook;
then, the point of your feather next the shank of your hook,---and
having
so done, whip it three or four times about the hook with the same silk
with which your hook was armed; and having made the silk fast, take the
hackle of a cock['s] or capon's neck,---or, a plover's top, which is
usually
better,---take off the one side of the feather, and then take the
hackle
[and whip it three or four times round with] silk, or crewel, gold or
silver
thread; make these fast at the bent of the hook, that is to say, below
your arming; then you must take the hackle, the silver or gold thread,
and work it up to the wings,---shifting or still removing your finger,
as you turn the silk about the hook,---and still looking, at every stop
or turn, that your gold, or what materials soever you make your fly of,
do lie right and neatly; and if you find they do so, then when you have
made the head, make all fast: and then work your hackle up to the head,
and make that fast: and then, with a needle or pin, divide the wing
into
two; and then, with the arming silk, whip it about cross-ways betwixt
the
wings: and then with your thumb you must turn the point of the feather
towards the bent of the hook; and then work three or four times about
the
shank of the hook; and then view the proportion; and if all be neat,
and
to your liking, fasten. I confess, no
direction can be given to make a man of dull capacity able to make a
fly
well: and yet I know, this, with a little practice, will help an
ingenious
angler in a good degree. But to see a fly made by an artist in that
kind,
is the best teaching to make it. And, then, an ingenious angler may
walk
by the river, and mark what flies fall on the water that day; and catch
one of them, if he sees the trout leap at a fly of that kind and
then---(having
always hooks ready hung with him): and having a bag also always with
him;
with bear's hair, or the hair of a brown or sad-coloured heifer;
hackles
of a cock or capon; several coloured silk and crewel; to make the body
of the fly;---the feathers of a drake's head; black or brown sheep's
wool,
or hog's wool or hair; thread of gold and of silver; silk of several
colours,
especially sad-coloured; to make the fly's head: and there be also
other
coloured feathers, both of little birds and of speckled fowl: I say,
having
those with him in a bag, and---trying to make a fly, though he miss at
first, yet shall he at last hit it better, even to such a perfection,
as
none can well teach him. And if he hit to make his fly right,--- and
have
the luck to hit, also, where there is store of trouts, a dark day, and
a right wind; he will catch such store of them, as will encourage him
to
grow more and more in love with the art of fly-making.

Ven. But, my loving
master!
if any wind will not serve, then I wish I were in Lapland, to buy a
good
wind of one of the honest witches, that sell so many winds there, and
so
cheap.

Pisc. Marry, scholar!
but
I would not be there, nor indeed from under this tree; for look how it
begins to rain! and by the clouds, if I mistake not, we shall presently
have a smoking shower; and therefore sit close; this sycamore tree will
shelter us. And I will tell you, as they shall come into my mind, more
observations of fly-fishing for a trout. But, first,
for
the wind: You are to take notice, that of the winds, the south wind is
said to be the best. One observes, that

----------when
the wind is south, It blows your
bait into a fish's mouth.

Next to
that,
the west wind is believed to be the best: and having told you that the
east wind is the worst, I need not tell you which wind is the best in
the
third degree. And yet, as Solomon observes, that "he that considers the
wind shall never sow;" so he that busies his head too much about them,
if the weather be not made extreme cold by an east wind, shall be a
little
superstitious: for as it is observed by some, that "there is no good
horse
of a bad colour;" so I have observed, that if it be a cloudy day, and
not
extreme cold, let the wind sit in what corner it will, and do its
worst,
I heed it not. And yet take this for a rule, that I would willingly
fish
standing on the lee-shore. And you are to take notice, that the fish
lies
or swims nearer to the bottom, and in deeper water, in winter than in
summer;
and also nearer the bottom, in any cold day, and then, gets nearer the
lee-side of the water. But I
promised
to tell you more, of the fly-fishing for a trout; which I may have time
enough to do, for you see it rains May butter. First for a May-fly: you
may make his body with greenish coloured crewel or willowish colour;
darkening
it in most places with waxed silk; (or ribbed with black hair; or, some
of them, ribbed with silver thread;) and such wings, for the colour, as
you see the fly to have that season, nay, at that very day on the
water.
Or you may make the oak-fly: with an orange, tawny, and black ground;
and
the brown of a mallard's feather for the wings. And you are to know,
that
these two are most excellent flies, that is, the May-fly and the
oak-fly. And let me
again
tell you, that you keep as far from the water as you can possibly,
whether
you fish with a fly or worm; and fish down the stream. And when you
fish
with a fly,---if it be possible, let no part of your line touch the
water,
but your fly only; and be still moving your fly upon the water, or
casting
it into the water, you yourself being also always moving down the
stream. Mr. Barker
commends
several sorts of the palmer-fly; not only those ribbed with siver and
gold,---but
others that have their bodies all made of black; or, some with red, and
a red hackle. You may also make the hawthorn-fly, which is all black,
and
not big, but very small, the slimmer the better. Or the oak-fly, the
body
of which is orange colour and black crewel, with a brown wing. Or a fly
made with a peacock's feather, is excellent in a bright day: you
must be sure you want not in your magazine-bag the peacock's feather:
and,
grounds of such wool and crewel as will make the grasshopper. And note,
that, usually, the smallest flies are the best; and note also, that the
lightest fly does usually make most sport in a dark day; and the
darkest
and least fly, in a bright or clear day: and lastly note, that you are
to repair, upon any occasion, to your magazine-bag; and upon any
occasion,
vary and make them lighter or sadder according to your fancy, or the
day. And now I
shall
tell you, that the fishing with a natural fly is excellent, and affords
much pleasure. They may be found thus: the May-fly, usually, in and
about
that month, near to the river side, especially against rain: the
oak-fly,
on the butt or body of an oak or ash, from the beginning of May to the
end of August; it is a brownish fly, and easy to be so found, and
stands
usually with his head downward, that is to say, towards the root of the
tree: the small black-fly, or hawthorn-fly, is to be had, on any
hawthorn
bush after the leaves be come forth. With these---and a short line, as
I showed to angle for a chub---you may dape or dop; and also with a
grasshopper;
behind a tree, or in any deep hole; still making it to move on top of
the
water, as if it were alive; and still keeping yourself out of
sight,---you
shall certainly have sport if there be trouts; yea, in a hot day, but
especially
in the evening of a hot day, you will have sport. And now,
scholar;
my direction for fly-fishing is ended with this shower, for it has done
raining. And now look about you, and see how pleasantly that meadow
looks;
nay, and the earth smells as sweetly too. Come let me tell you
what
holy Mr. Herbert says of such days and flowers as these; and then we
will
thank God that we enjoy them; and walk to the river and sit down
quietly,
and try to catch the other brace of trouts.

Sweet day!
so
cool, so calm, so bright; The bridal of
the earth and sky; Sweet dews
shall
weep thy fall to-night,
for thou must die.

Sweet
rose! whose
hue, angry and brave, Bids the rash
gazer wipe his eye; Thy root is
ever
in its grave,
and thou must die.

Sweet
spring!
full of sweet days and roses; A box where
sweets
compacted lie: My music
shows
you have your closes,
and all must die.

Only
a sweet
and virtuous soul, Like
season'd
timber, never gives, But
when
the whole world turns to coal,---
then, chiefly, lives.

Ven. I thank you, good
master!
for your good direction for fly-fishing; and for the sweet enjoyment of
the pleasant day,---which is, so far, spent without offence to God or
man.
And I thank you, for the sweet close of your discourse with Mr.
Herbert's
verses; who, I have heard, loved angling,---and I do the rather believe
it, because he had a spirit suitable to anglers, and to those primitive
Christians that you love, and have so much commended.

Pisc. Well, my loving
scholar!
and I am pleased, to know that you are so well pleased with my
direction
and discourse. And since you
like these verses of Mr. Herbert's, so well,---let me tell you, what a
reverend and learned divine---that professes to imitate him, and has
indeed
done so most excellently---hath writ of our book of Common Prayer;
which
I know you will like the better, because he is a friend of mine, and I
am sure no enemy to angling.

What!
PRAY'R by
the BOOK? and COMMON? Yes, why not?
The spirit of grace
And supplication,
Is not left free, alone
For time and place, But manner
too:
TO READ, OR SPEAK, by rote,
Is, all, alike---to him that prays,
In's heart, what with his mouth he says.

They that
in private,
by themselves, alone,
Do pray; may take
What liberty they please,
In choosing of the ways
Wherein to make Their souls'
most intimate affections known
To Him that sees in secret, when
Th'are most conceal'd from other men.

But he,
that unto
others leads the way,
In public prayer;
Should do it, so,
As all that hear, may know
They need not fear To tune their
hearts unto his tongue and say
Amen; not doubt they were betray'd
To blaspheme, when they meant to have prayed.

Devotion
will
add life unto the letter:
And why should not
That which authority
Prescribes, esteemed be
Advantage got? If th'prayer
be good,---the commoner the better.
Prayer in the Church's WORDS as well
As SENSE, of all prayers bears the bell.

CH. HARVIE.

And now,
scholar!
I think it will be time to repair to our angle-rods; which we left in
the
water to fish for themselves; and you shall choose which shall be
yours;
and it is an even lay, one of them catches. And, let me
tell
you, this kind of fishing with a dead rod, and laying night-hooks; are
like putting money to use; for they both work for the owners when they
do nothing but sleep,---or eat,---or rejoice, as you know we have done
this last hour, and sat as quietly and as free from cares under this
sycamore,
as Virgil's Tityrus and his Meliboeus did under their broad beech-tree.
No life, my honest scholar! no life so happy and so pleasant, as the
life
of a well-governed angler; for when the lawyer is swallowed up with
business,---and
the statesman is preventing, or contriving, plots,---then, we sit on
cowslip-banks,
hear the birds sing, and possess ourselves in as much quietness as
these
silent silver streams, which we now see glide so quietly by us. Indeed,
my good scholar, we may say of angling---as Dr. Boteler said of
strawberries,
"Doubtless God could have made a better berry, but doubtless God never
did;" and so, if I might be judge,---"God never did make a more calm,
quiet,
innocent recreation, than angling." I'll tell
you,
scholar! when I sat last on this primrose-bank, and looked down these
meadows,
I thought of them as Charles the emperor did of the city of
Florence:---"That
they were too pleasant to be looked on, but only on holy-days." As I
then
sat on this very grass, I turned my present thoughts into verse: 'twas
a wish which I'll repeat to you.

THE
ANGLER'S WISH

I in these
flowery
meads would be: These
chrystal
streams should solace me, To whose
harmonious
bubbling noise, I with my
angle
would rejoice: Sit here and
see the turtle dove Court his
chaste
mate to acts of love:

Or on that
bank,
feel the west wind Breathe
health
and plenty: please my mind, To see sweet
dew-drops kiss these flowers, And, then,
wash'd
off by April showers: Here, hear my
Kenna sing a song: There see a
blackbird
feed her young, Or a leverock
build her nest: Here give my
weary spirits rest, And raise my
low-pitched thoughts above Earth, or
what
poor mortals love:
Thus free from law-suits and the noise
Of princes' courts, I would rejoice.

Or---with
my Bryan,
and a nook--- Loiter
long-days
near Shawford-brook: There, sit by
him; and eat my meat: There see the
sun both rise and set: There bid
good
morning to next day: There
meditate
my time away;
And angle on; and beg to have
A quiet passage to a welcome grave.

When I had
ended
this composure, I left the place; and saw a brother of the angle sit
under
that honeysuckle hedge, one that will prove worth your acquaintance; I
sat down by him: and, presently, we met with an accidental piece of
merriment;
which I will relate to you,---for it rains still. On the other
side of this very hedge, sat a gang of gipsies; and near to them, sat a
gang of beggars. The gipsies were, then, to divide all the money that
had
been got that week, either by stealing linen or poultry, or by
fortune-telling,
or legerdemain, or indeed by any other sleights and secrets belonging
to
their mysterious government. And the sum that was got that week, proved
to be but twenty and some odd shillings. The odd money was agreed to be
distributed amongst the poor of their own corporation; and for the
remaining
twenty shillings,---that was to be divided unto four gentlemen gipsies,
according to their several degrees in their commonwealth. And the first
or chiefest gipsy was, by consent, to have a third part of the twenty
shillings;
which all men know is 6s. 8d. The second
was
to have a fourth part of the 20s., which all men know to be 5s. The third was
to have a fifth part of the 20s., which all men know to be 4s. The fourth
and
last gipsy was to have a sixth part of the 20s., which all men know to
be 3s. 4d.

As, for example, 3 times 6s. 8d. is ---------20s. And so is 4 times 5s.-------20s. And so is 5 times 4s.-------20s. And so is 6 times 3s. 4d. --20s.

And yet he
that
divided the money was so very a gipsy that though he gave to every one
these said sums, yet he kept one shilling of it for himself.

As for example,
s. d.
6 8
5 0
4 0
3 4
______ Make but . . .
19 0

But now
you shall
know, that when the four gipsies saw that he had got one shilling by
dividing
the money,---though not one of them knew any reason to demand more,
yet,
like lords and courtiers, every gipsy envied him that was the gainer,
and
wrangled with him; and every one said, the remaining shilling belonged
to him: and so they fell to so high a contest about it, as none that
knows
the faithfulness of one gipsy to another, will easily believe; only we
that have lived these last twenty years, are certain that money has
been
able to do much mischief. However, the gipsies were too wise to go to
law,
and did therefore choose their choice friends Rook and Shark, and our
late
English Gusman, to be their arbitrators and umpires. And so they left
this
honeysuckle hedge, and went to tell fortunes and cheat, and get more
money
and lodging, in the next village. When these
were
gone we heard as high a contention amongst the beggars, whether it was
easiest to rip a cloak, or to unrip a cloak? One beggar affirmed it was
all one; but that was denied, by asking her, if doing and undoing were
all one? Then another said 'twas easiest to unrip a cloak, for that was
to let it alone; but she was answered, by asking her, how she unript it
if she let it alone? and she confest herself mistaken. These, and
twenty
such like questions were proposed, with as much beggarly logic and
earnestness
as was ever heard to proceed from the mouth of the most pertinacious
schismatic;
and sometimes all the beggars--- whose number was neither more nor less
than the poet's nine muses---talked, all together, about this ripping
and
unripping; and so loud, that not one heard what the other said. But, at
last, one beggar craved audience, and told them that old father Clause,
whom Ben Jonson, in his Beggar's Bush, created king of their
corporation,
was that night to lodge at an ale-house, called Catch-her-by-the-way,
not
far from Waltham Cross, and in the high road towards London; and he
therefore
desired them to spend no more time about that and such like questions,
but refer all to father Clause at night,---for he was an upright
judge,---and
in the mean time draw cuts, what song should be next sung, and who
should
sing it. They all agreed to the motion; and the lot fell to her that
was
the youngest, and veriest virgin of the company. And she sung Frank
Davison's
song, which he made forty years ago; and all the others of the company
joined to sing the burthen with her. The ditty was this---but first the
burthen:

What noise
of
viols is so sweet,
As when our merry clappers ring? What mirth
doth
want, when beggars meet?
A beggars life is for a king. Eat, drink,
and
play; sleep when we list, Go where we
will,
so stocks be mist.
Bright shines the sun. Play, beggars, play:
Here's scraps enough to serve to-day.

The world
is ours,
and ours alone;
For we alone have world at will. We purchase
not;
all is our own;
Both fields and streets we beggars fill: Nor care to
get,
nor fear to keep, Did ever
break
a beggar's sleep.
Bright shines the sun. Play, beggars, play:
Here's scraps enough to serve to-day.

A hundred
herds
of black and white
Upon our gowns securely feed; And yet if
any
dare us bite,
He dies, therefore, as sure as creed. Thus beggars
lord it as they please, And only
beggars
live at ease.
Bright shines the sun. Play, beggars, play:
Here's scraps enough to serve to-day.

Ven. I thank you, good
master!
for this piece of merriment; and this song, which was well humoured by
the maker, and well remembered by you.

Pisc. But, I pray,
forget
not the catch which you promised to make against night; for our
countryman,
honest Coridon, will expect your catch,---and my song, which I must be
forced to patch up, for it is so long since I learnt it, that I have
forgot
a part of it. But, come, now it hath done raining, let's stretch our
legs
a little in a gentle walk to the river; and try what our angles will
pay
us, for lending them so long to the trouts; lent them indeed, like
usurers,
for our profit and their destruction.

Pisc. Ah, marry, sir!
that
was a good fish indeed: if I had had the luck to have taken up that
rod,
then it is twenty to one he should not have broken my line by running
to
the rod's end, as you suffered him. I would have held him within the
bent
of my rod,---unless he had been fellow to the great trout that is near
an ell long, which was of such a length and depth, that he had his
picture
drawn, and now is to be seen at mine host Ricabie's at the George in
Ware;
and it may be, by giving that very great trout the rod, that is, by
casting
to him in the water, I might have caught him at the long run; for so I
use always to do when I meet with an overgrown fish; and you will learn
to do so too, hereafter; for I tell you, scholar! fishing is an
art---or,
at least, it is an art to catch fish.

Ven. But, master! I
have heard
that the great trout you speak of is a salmon.

Pisc. Trust me,
scholar! I
know not what to say to it. There are many country people that believe
hares change sexes every year: and there be very many learned men think
so too,---for in their dissecting them, they find many reasons to
incline
them to that belief. And to make the wonder seem yet less, that hares
change
sexes, note that Dr. Meric Casaubon affirms, in his book of credible
and
incredible things, that Gaspar Peucerus, a learned physician, tells us
of a people that, once a year, turn wolves, partly in shape, and partly
in conditions. And so, whether this were a salmon when he came into
fresh
water, and his not returning into the sea hath altered him to another
colour
or kind, I am not able to say; but I am certain he hath all the signs
of
being a trout, for his shape, colour, and spots: and yet many think he
is not.

Ven. But, master! will
this
trout which I had hold of die? for it is like he hath the hook in his
belly.

Pisc. I will tell you,
scholar!
that unless the hook be fast in his very gorge, 'tis more than probable
he will live: and a little time, with the help of the water, will rust
the hook; and it will in time wear away,--- as the gravel doth in the
horse-hoof
which only leaves a false quarter. And now,
scholar!
let's go to my rod. Look you, scholar! I have a fish too: but it proves
a logger-headed chub; and this is not much amiss; for this will
pleasure
some poor body, as we go to our lodging to meet our brother Peter and
honest
Coridon. Come! now bait your hook again, and lay it into the water: for
it rains again, and we will even retire to the sycamore-tree, and there
I will give you more directions concerning fishing; for I would fain
make
you an artist.

Ven. Yes, good master!
I pray
let it be so.

Pisc. Well, scholar!
now we
are sat down and are at ease, I shall tell you a little more of
trout-fishing,
before I speak of the salmon, which I purpose shall be next, and then,
of the pike or luce. You are to
know,
there is night as well as day-fishing for a trout; and that, in the
night,
the best trouts come out of their holes. And the manner of taking them
is: on the top of the water, with a great lob or garden-worm, or rather
two, which you are to fish with in a place where the waters run
somewhat
quietly, for in a stream the bait will not be so well discerned. I say,
in a quiet or dead place, near to some swift; there draw your bait over
the top of the water to and fro, and if there be a good trout in the
hole,
he will take it; especially if the night be dark,---for then he is
bold,
and lies near the top of the water, watching the motion of any frog or
water-rat, or mouse, thay swims betwixt him and the sky; these he hunts
after, if he sees the water but wrinkle, or move in one of these dead
holes,
where these great old trouts usually lie, near to their holds; for you
are to note, that the great old trout is both subtle and fearful, and
lies
close all day, and does not usually stir out of his hold; but lies in
it
as close in the day, as the timorous hare does in her form; for the
chief
feeding of either is seldom in the day, but usually in the night, and
then
the great trout feeds very boldly. And you must
fish for him with a long line, and not a little hook: and let him have
time to garge your hook, for he does not usually forsake it, as
he
oft will in the day-fishing. And if the night be not dark, then fish so
with an artificial fly of a light-colour, and at the snap, nay he will
sometimes rise at a dead mouse, or a piece of cloth, or anything that
seems
to swim across the water, or be in motion. This is a choice way: but I
have not oft used it, because it is void of the pleasures that such
days
as these that we two now enjoy, afford an angler. And you are
to
know, that in Hampshire---which I think exceeds all England, for swift,
shallow, clear, pleasant brooks, and store of trouts---they use to
catch
trouts in the night, by the light of a torch or straw; which when they
have discovered, they strike with a trout-spear, or other ways. This
kind
of way they catch very many; but I would not believe it till I was an
eye-witness
of it, nor do I like it now I have seen it.

Ven. But, master! do
not trouts
see us, in the night?

Pisc. Yes, and hear,
and smell,
too, both then and in the day-time. For Gesner observes, the otter
smells
a fish forty furlongs off him in the water; and that it may be true,
seems
to be affirmed by Sir Francis Bacon, in the eighth century of his
Natural
History; who there proves that waters may be the medium of sounds, by
demonstrating
it thus: "That if you knock two stones together very deep under the
water,
those that stand on a bank near to that place, may hear the noise
without
any diminution of it by the water." He also offers the like experiment
concerning the letting an anchor fall, by a very long cable or rope, on
a rock, or the sand, within the sea. And this being so well observed
and
demonstrated, as it is by that learned man, has made me to believe that
eels unbed themselves, and stir, at the noise of thunder; and not only,
as some think, by the motion or stirring of the earth, which is
occasioned
by that thunder. And this
reason
of Sir Francis Bacon, "Exper." 792, has made me crave pardon of one
that
I laughed at for affirming, that he knew carps come to a certain place
in a pond, to be fed at the ringing of a bell or the beating of a drum.
And however, it shall be a rule for me, to make as little noise as I
can,
when I am fishing, until Sir Francis Bacon be confuted, which I shall
give
any man leave to do. And lest you
may think him singular in this opinion,---I will tell you, this seems
to
be believed by our learned Doctor Hakewell, who, in his "Apology of
God's
Power and Providence," p. 360, quotes Pliny, to report that one of the
emperors had particular fish-ponds; and in them, several fish that
appeared
and came, when they were called by their particular names. And St.
James
tells us, chap. iii. 7, that all things in the sea have been tamed by
mankind.
And Pliny tells us, Lib. ix. 35, that Antonia, the wife of Drusus, had
a lamprey, at whose gills she hung jewels or ear-rings: and that others
have been so tender-hearted, as to shed tears at the death of fishes,
which
they have kept and loved. And these observations, which will to most
hearers
seem wonderful, seem to have a further confirmation from Martial, Lib.
iv. Epigr. 30, who writes thus:---

Piscator!
fuge,
ne nocens, &c.

Angler!
would'st
thou be guiltless? then forbear; For these are
sacred fishes that swim here, Who know
their
sovereign, and will lick his hand, Than which
none's
greater in the world's command; Nay more,
they've
names, and when they called are, Do to their
several
owner's call repair.

All the further use that I
shall
make of this shall be, to advise anglers to be patient and forbear
swearing,
lest they be heard and catch no fish. And so I
shall
proceed, next, to tell you, it is certain, that certain fields near
Leominster,
a town in Herefordshire, are observed to make the sheep that graze upon
them more fat, than the next, and also to bear finer wool,---that is to
say, that that year in which they feed in such a particular pasture,
they
shall yield finer wool than they did that year before they came to feed
in it; and coarser again, if they shall return to their former pasture;
and, again, return to a finer wool, being fed in the fine wool
ground:---Which,
I tell you, that you may the better believe that, I am certain, if I
catch
a trout in one meadow he shall be white and faint, and very likely to
be
lousy; and, as certainly, if I catch a trout in the next meadow, he
shall
be strong, and red, and lusty, and much better meat. Trust me, scholar!
I have caught many a trout in a particular meadow, that the very shape
and enamelled colour of him hath been such, as hath joyed me to look on
him: and I have then, with much pleasure, concluded with Solomon,
"Everything
is beautiful in its season." I should, by
promise, speak next of the salmon; but I will, by your favour, say a
little
of the umber or grayling; which is so like a trout for his shape and
feeding,
that I desire I may exercise your patience with a short discourse of
him;
and then, the next shall be of the salmon.